Thursday, June 25, 2015

Monet

Unable to get into the Monet show,Too many people there, too many cars,We spent the Sunday morning at Bowl PondA mile from the Museum, where no one was,And walked an hour or so around the rimBeside five acres of flowering waterliliesLifting three feet above their floating padsHuge yellow flowers heavy on bending stemsIn various phases of array and disarrayOf Petals packed, unfolded, opening to showThe meaty orange centers that become,When the ruined flags fall away, green shower headsSpilling their wealth of seed at summer’s endInto the filthy water among small fishMud-colored and duck moving explorativeThrough jungle pathways opened among the frondsUpon whose surface water drops behaveLike mercury, collecting in heavy silver coinsInstead of bubbles; some few redwinged blackbirdsWhistling above all this once in a while,The silence else unbroken all about.